Reflections of the Past
by natashabromanoff
Summary: Alex Rider struggles with the death of Julius Grief, and therefore with mirrors.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** this has been bumping around my wips for about a year now. I don't really know where I'm going with it but I really like the idea so. here it is!

* * *

Alex would like to think that he isn't a prisoner, but there are a few things he can't deny.

First — they've refused to let him speak to Tom or Sabina or — _no, not Jack she's-_

Second — between the hard bed, rough concrete walls, and tiny, mirror-less bathroom, this room feels an awful lot like a cell.

Third (and this one is probably the most deciding factor of all) — he can't see a lock, but he definitely can't open the door.

The only human contact he has is when he's brought food three times a day, always by the same blank-faced agent who refuses to answer any but the most basic of questions. Alex has no idea why he's here, but he does generally know what time it is (for all the good it does him).

Mostly, he stares at the wall and does his very best to not think about anything at all that happened in Egypt. He tries not to sleep for long enough to let the nightmares come, but Jack and Julius haunt him even when he's awake. Both of their deaths are seared into his mind forever.

He hopes he'll never forget Jack. He wishes he could forget Julius. His face — Alex's own face, as much as he hates it — covered in blood and dirt and brains and _death_ terrifies him to the point that he had had a ten-minute panic attack after his last nightmare (not that MI6 seemed to care).

Every part of him wishes he could go back to that day, that he could save Jack and let someone who wasn't _fifteen years old_ take care of Julius, but he can't. Alex is a murderer now. Sure, he had indirectly killed people in the past, but he had put a gun right to Julius's — his — face and pulled the trigger.

Knowingly. Easily.

Willingly.

* * *

It's probably safe to say that he's slipping into depression.

He's never really understood that phrase, but now it makes sense. He feels like he's falling into some giant hole. The farther he falls, the less likely it is that he'll be able to pull himself back up. And there's no one around to help slow his descent.

Maybe it's more of a freefall than a slip — after all, the last person he considered family is dead, and he's a murderer.

And still, MI6 keeps him here and tells him nothing.

* * *

He thinks it's been about a month since he was first put here — assuming the meals are actually coming three times a day — when the routine he had gotten used to changes.

Mrs. Jones shows up at the door.

She attempts what looks like it's supposed to be a smile. "Hello, Alex," she says.

Part of him has to restrain the urge to punch her right in the face.

"Hi," he says instead. There are a lot of other things he'd like to say, but his sudden anger is making it hard for him to think of them. "What the _he-_ "

"I understand that you're angry," she interrupts smoothly.

"That's an-"

"But," she continues, louder, "there were lots of things we had to do."

"That's not-"

"For one, we had to make sure Scorpia wasn't going to come after you." Her voice is still getting louder, and she's _still_ ignoring him. "Or anyone else, for that matter."

"I don't-"

"The global intelligence community wasn't thrilled to learn of your existence. Alan Blunt is no longer head of MI6."

Alex stops short for a moment. He had assumed that he was here because of Blunt. "Who is, then?" he asks.

"I am."

At that, Alex can't hold his anger back anymore. " _You_? _You're_ the one who's been keeping me here?" he exclaims, furious, after a moment of pause. All of the emotions he had had no outlet for in the room are suddenly making an appearance. "You could have told me something. Anything! How long was I in there, Jones? How long have you been _keeping me prisoner_?" he demands. His hands are shaking in anger, and he's incredibly close to letting punches fly.

"We weren't keeping you prisoner, Alex, we were keeping you safe," Mrs. Jones explains, still incredibly, impressively calm. "Also, we didn't have another place to put you. You didn't have a legal guardian."

 _Jack. The car._ Alex shuts his eyes for a moment, fighting a flashback with every inch of his being. "Thanks for the reminder," he remarks, doing his best to cover the shake in his voice with sarcasm. "So, where am I headed? Prison?"

"Absolutely not. We made sure. You aren't even going to be prosecuted."

"I killed Julius Grief. I _murdered_ someone."

"In self-defense."

Alex doesn't have the energy to argue this right now. "Where, then? An orphanage? The Pleasures? The Harrises?"

"None of those would give you the protection we need you to have."

"Then give them the protection."

"You know as well as I do that that would be a massive inconvenience."

Alex hears the words she doesn't say, too: _it would be a death sentence._ "Well, then, where?"

"A safehouse. Guarded by Ben Daniels — Fox, if you prefer — and the rest of K-Unit."

Alex stares blankly. "You do know how _absolutely terrible_ they were to me at Brecons, right?"

"Are you acquainted with any other units of elite soldiers?"

"Just checking," Alex mutters. "Fine, whatever. I assume I don't get a say in this?"

"I'm afraid not. Your safety is the highest priority."

The tone of her voice makes it sound like she's actually doing him a favor. Alex can't stand it. "When?"

"Right now," she says. "I had an agent get some of your things from your house."

"You got into my _house_? That's not...you can't-"

"Actually, Alex, with Ian Rider and Jack Starbright dead, the house legally belongs to the bank."

"Can't I go back?" he pleads, fully aware that he sounds like a whining toddler. "At least once? _Please_?" He just needs to see it, needs to smell the air freshener and see the last place he ever had a family _one more time._

"As your known place of residence, it's going to be under heavy surveillance from anyone who might want you dead. I'm sorry, Alex."

"I thought you said no one was after me."

Mrs. Jones shrugs helplessly. "I did my best, but deals can always be broken. Now, are you going to come with me or do I need to get some agents down here?"

"I'll come with you. But," Alex says disgustedly, "I hope you realize you sound like Blunt."

* * *

Alex doesn't say a word the entire drive, and, after a couple of conversation starters, the woman driving seems to get the message and does the same. Alex leans against the window and watches the buildings flash by until he falls asleep.

He isn't sure how much later it is when he awakes, echoes of Julius's dead face mocking him until he opens his eyes, but the scenery is vastly different than it was before. No longer is he surrounded by dull gray buildings but sprawling countryside. He can only see three houses—the rest is just empty green field.

He doesn't like it. There's nowhere to hide. He feels exposed, vulnerable.

He'll be able to see anyone who comes, though. Assuming people are after him — and he doesn't really doubt it.

The car pulls in front of one of the houses and stops. "Well, we're here," the driver says.

"And where is here?" Alex looks around. They really are in the middle of nowhere.

"MI6 safehouse," she replies.

"That's not what I meant."

She shrugs. "That's what I can tell you. Do you want help with your things?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Alright. I'll wait here until you get inside. Be sure you lock the door."

Alex almost snorts. Right, like a lock would keep out anyone who really wanted to put a bullet in him.

Like he put a bullet in Julius.

He stops short for a moment before forcibly tearing his thoughts away from that. It doesn't do him any good to think about it. He grabs his bag from the back and heads for the house, thanking the driver on the way there.

Just before he opens the door, he hesitates. If K-Unit's already here, he isn't sure what he'll have to do.

Alex opens the door. No voices. He looks inside. No one.

He enters the house and closes the door behind him. Having him by himself probably isn't MI6's best idea ever as far as his safety goes, but he appreciates not having to deal with K-Unit yet.

Alex absentmindedly locks the door, then jumps a little as something heavy-sounding clicks and a medium-quiet electrical hum fills the air.

Okay. Maybe locking the door does do him some good.

He takes a look around the main floor — well-stocked kitchen, two couches, and a TV in the largest room, and a dark wooden table in a room attached to the kitchen — but he doesn't get a chance to go upstairs before he hears the security on the door disengage.

Alex freezes and quiets his breathing. K-Unit or an enemy?

"This is by far the worst assignment we've ever had."

"Pretty sure Baghdad was worse."

" _Protection duty_. We're sitting around all day doing nothing, Fox. That's a pretty awful assignment."

"Who are we here to protect, anyway?"

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. K-Unit. Definitely. Casually, he walks back to the main room. "Oh, hey, guys."

All four of them jump at once, though Ben does a better job of concealing it. Wolf swears for at least twenty seconds straight.

"Kid, what the h- _heck_ are you doing?" Snake asks, stuttering over what he obviously doesn't want to be a swear word while he's in front of Alex, which is especially entertaining considering Wolf is still going. Alex might have laughed at that if he had the emotional energy for it. "Where are your parents?"

That legitimately surprises Alex. His parents? "What?"

"Aren't we here for one of them?"

"Uh-"

"Do I know you?" Eagle interrupts.

"What were you _thinking_?" contributes Wolf.

Alex, caught up in mild disbelief that they neither recognize him nor know that they're here for him, doesn't think before he replies, "Wow, you're all just as annoying as ever."

Wolf's jaw actually drops in shock, while Eagle makes a quiet choking sound. "He just called Wolf annoying," he says faintly. "I've wanted to do that for years."

"Who are you?" Wolf demands.

"I think he's the agent we're here to protect," Fox says calmly.

This time it's Wolf who almost chokes. "We're here to protect a f-" –Snake shoots him a glare and he hastily corrects himself—"frickin' teenager? You are a teenager, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm fifteen. Alex Rider. Though you lot know me better as Cub."

"Cub?"

"The one and only. Now, if you're done gaping at me, I'm going to go to the bathroom. Someone should probably lock the door."

He walks away, oblivious to the vaguely horrified stare he's getting from Wolf behind his back.

* * *

In the bathroom, Alex takes his time washing his hands, hoping to avoid K-Unit for as long as possible. The soap smells like cotton, like the kind Jack likes — _liked_ — and suddenly he misses her all over again. He closes his eyes, fighting back tears.

In the other room, he can hear the members of K-Unit arguing, probably about him, though he doesn't bother to listen to their words. How did they not recognize him? Does he look that much different than before? He opens his eyes and looks in the mirror.

At his face.

At Julius's face.

At-

- _there's blood everywhere and eyes are so empty and-_

-no, no, this isn't happening, he's just Alex and he's fine but-

- _murderer you killed me you're a monster and-_

-he's vaguely aware that he's stumbled back into the wall, but he can't stop looking at-

- _Julius_. Alex. _Julius._

He tears his eyes away from the mirror just in time to stumble to the toilet and throw up what little there is in his stomach. His eyes are sticky, his breathing ragged, his chest aching, and K-Unit has stopped talking.

They had heard him. He'd be more surprised if they hadn't.

There's a quiet knock on the door, followed by a, "Hey, you okay?" from Snake.

Alex wipes his mouth and replies, "Yeah, Just give me a second." He swishes some water around his mouth in an effort to get rid of the taste and then spits it out, being incredibly careful to not look in the mirror. He rubs his bullet scar lightly. It does nothing to ease the pain.

He opens the door, and the first thing he sees is Snake's worried expression. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, it's nothing," Alex lies. "I've been feeling sick all day."

For a moment, Alex is afraid Snake will question him (there's no way he can explain this), but the soldier just nods. "Alright. Well, there are only four beds and I think they're fighting about who gets the couch now. You should probably go participate if you don't want to get it by default."

"What about you?" Alex asks. He's still incredibly shaken by what had happened in the bathroom, but if he gives anything away, he'll have to explain it all. He just...can't.

"Oh, I'm the medic," Snake says dismissively. "It's in everyone's best interests to keep me happy."

Alex can't find it in himself to laugh.

* * *

 **A/N:** feedback would be wonderful and might help me figure out how to continue? :)


	2. Chapter 2

Alex ends up rooming with Snake, a situation he reserves judgment on. He drops his (very few) things in the bedroom and grabs a book he's supposed to have already read for class. After a moment of deliberation, he decides to head back out to the main area. He's stuck with K-Unit for the foreseeable future. He may as well get used to being around them.

Instinctively, he sits in a corner and checks the ways into and out of the room. They're all in easy sight.

Feeling reassured, Alex leans back into his chair and opens to the first page of the book. His concentration, however, is off. He twitches at every little sound, and he's read the first paragraph four times without absorbing a single word of it.

"Cub," someone says, and Alex jumps a little.

"That's not my name," he says. He doesn't look up, trying to force himself on task.

Someone else - Ben, Alex wants to say - sighs. "Alex, come on."

Alex takes a deep breath and looks up. "What's up?"

"Uh," Eagle starts, "no offense, but-"

"Who are you, kid?" Wolf half-snaps. Vaguely, Alex wonders if that's his default tone of voice.

"I thought we had already made introductions," Alex says coolly. "I'm Alex."

"That's not what we mean, and you know it," Wolf replies. "Why do you need a protection detail? You're fifteen."

Alex is legitimately surprised that Wolf has to ask. Though, he supposes he shouldn't be, considering that they didn't even know they were here for him the first place. "If Jones didn't tell you, it's probably classified," he says, returning to his book.

"Listen, Alex, we at least have to know who might be a threat," Eagle says mildly.

Alex blinks. "Um. Scorpia, mainly. But I think MI6 took care of them."

"Scorpia?" Wolf exclaims. "I - what? Why?"

"It's not important," Alex says, though he feels a little guilty for holding it back. "And it's classified. Now can you please let me read? I was supposed to have this done in October."

There's a silence edged with shock. Alex stares at his book unseeingly, unhappy with all the attention being focused on him.

Then Fox - understanding as ever - makes a comment about a piece of news, and Eagle replies. Wolf leans in, though he continues shooting looks at Alex. Nonetheless, Alex feels himself relax as most of the room's tension comes off of him.

Snake is the only one who doesn't join the unit's discussion. Alex can see him watching him over the top of his book.

Somehow, Alex finishes the first page. He flips to the next, studiously ignoring Snake's stare.

"You're sitting with your back to a corner," Snake says unexpectedly, quietly enough that no one else can hear. "You can see everyone in the room and every way into it. You only stop tapping your fingers when you clench your fist at unexpected noises, and you're uneasy at being in a room with people you don't trust."

Alex is, again, surprised, as well as suddenly uncomfortable that Snake had been watching him closely enough to notice. "So?" he says, at equal volume. No need to spread his problems around. "I have anxiety issues." He doesn't explain why, because it /is/ probably classified.

"Fox did the same things when he came back from MI6."

Alex shrugs. "So?"

"They're spy things."

Alex is careful not to look rattled. "I'm fifteen, remember?"

"Somehow, I still wouldn't be surprised."

Alex snaps his eyes up to meet Snake's steady gaze. He slams his book shut.

"Classified," he repeats, and leaves the room.

* * *

Alex sits on his bed upstairs, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. Snake had read him easily - too easily. He's supposed to be good at this.

Maybe if he had been better, Jack would still be alive.

He closes his eyes and lays back. He misses her so much. And it's his fault that she's gone...

He forces himself to stand up. He needs to do /something/ or else he's going to start crying.

His bag catches his eye, so he grabs it and starts putting clothes away. The task takes enough of his concentration that he can relax. Whoever packed his bag actually did a surprisingly decent job of getting his clothes - he has a good spread of just about everything he'd need.

Alex reaches into his bag again, but his fingers brush paper instead of fabric. He looks down, surprised.

An unassuming tan folder rests at the bottom, small red letters in the corner announcing that the contents are Level 10 clearance. Alex picks it up and opens it.

The first thing that catches his eye is the two pictures of him that fill half of the first page. The second thing is a sticky note stuck to the inside of the folder.

/Alex/, it reads. /I was going to give this to K-Unit, but I decided to leave it up to you. All of your information is here - mission reports, medical reports, training.

/I am sincerely sorry for everything that has happened. I wish you good luck and a better life. -TJ/

It takes Alex a moment to place who it's from before he remembers that Mrs. Jones's first name is Tulip.

He reads it a couple more times, expecting to feel anger, but instead he feels a vague sense of relief. He's been given control over /something/ in his life, no matter how small.

Alex flips through the folder, skimming the contents. Everything he's told MI6 is there, plus some things he hasn't.

Every mission. Every place. Every casualty.

Even his most recent.

He stares at the names, feeling guilt tangle in his stomach. How many people would never have died if not for him? Jack, definitely.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," Alex whispers to himself. He closes his eyes as tears spill down his cheeks.

Then, suddenly, a knock at the door. "Alex, can I come in?" Fox asks.

Startled, Alex drops the file back into his bag, which he shoves under the bed. He wipes at his eyes and takes a deep breath before replying, "Yeah, come on."

Fox opens the door, frowns, and immediately flips on the light. It's unexpected, especially since Alex hadn't noticed how dim the light from outside the window had been getting.

Ben sits next to Alex. "How have you been doing?"

Alex shrugs. "Well, you know. Not great."

"That's understandable."

A pause. Alex fiddles with his shirt.

I've heard rumors about Cairo, you know," Ben says suddenly. "Nothing specific, but - well, I know something bad went down. Lots of bad somethings, actually."

"That's an understatement," Alex says bitterly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Ben puts his hands up in a half-shrug. "That's fine," he says. "I just want you to know that you /can/. With me. Or the others. Snake's a good listener. Eagle's good with advice. Wolf...well, Wolf has his own way of comfort. Doesn't work for everyone. But we're here. And you will eventually have to let someone in."

Alex wants to laugh. Yeah, right, like he has the trust to talk to any of them. "Okay. Thanks," he says instead. His voice is flat.

Ben nods. "Just wanted to make sure that you knew."

"Right. Gotcha." Alex tilts his head, desperate for a subject change. "Hey, when's dinner?"

"I have no idea," Ben replies. "Let's go find out."

* * *

Dinner, as it turns out, is whenever someone decides to microwave something in the freezer. It's a little sad, really, but Alex doesn't want to cook without Jack. He /can't/, not yet.

They eat their microwaved burritos in silence. Alex doesn't taste a single bite.

* * *

The shot rings out, a neat hole appearing in Julius's forehead as he falls to the ground-

And then, suddenly, Alex is on the ground, his head feeling like it's on fire, looking at himself. Above the cold barrel of the gun, his eyes are expressionless and uncaring.

Alex's eyes snap open in panic. The room is mostly dark, with only small amounts of light from the nightlight on the corner allowing him to see the corners of the room. The bullet scar chimes in with its by-now familiar throb.

His breathing relaxes, for a moment, before the first sob chokes his throat. And then he's all out crying, and he can't stop.

If he isn't careful, he's going to wake Snake. Alex grabs a pillow and shoves his face into it in an effort to muffle his misery.

The figure in the other bed shifts, sits up. Looks like he's too late.

"Cub?" Snake says blearily. "You okay?"

"F-Fine," Alex mutters, but his voice breaks halfway through. So much for that.

Snake is out of bed almost immediately, and he sits gingerly next to Alex. "Nice try," he says. "What's wrong?"

Alex just shakes his head. "I'm fine," he lies. "It's f-fine. Go back to sleep." He fists a hand in his shirt, trying to ease the tightness in his chest, but it doesn't help. And since when is the room this /hot/?

Snake doesn't reply, just places a gentle hand on Alex's back. Alex flinches at the contact but doesn't move.

"Alex, I need you to take deep breaths," Snake says quietly. "Follow my voice. In. Hold. Out. In. Hold. Out."

It takes Alex a few cycles to get it, but, slowly, his breath evens out. His chest still aches, but not as badly as before, and he's stopped crying.

"Thanks," he whispers, not wanting to trust his voice.

"It's no problem. Do you have nightmares a lot?" Snake asks.

Alex hesitates.

"You don't have to tell me," Snake says reassuringly. "Just - if you want to."

"I already got this talk from Fox."

"Well, it still applies. You can talk to me if you want."

Alex bites his lip. He wants someone to talk to, he really does. His emotions are so all over the place that it would be nice if someone could help ground him. But he can't just forget everything that happened and Brecon Beacons, not to mention everything that's happened since. He doesn't trust Snake enough. He doesn't trust any of them enough.

"It's...a long story," he says eventually.

"Well, if you ever want to tell it, I'm here." Snake stands and goes back to his own bed. Alex is surprised to find that he misses the comforting presence of another person.

"Wait, Snake," Alex says.

"Yeah?"

"What you said earlier. About the anxiety and the spy things and all that." Alex hesitates, unsure if he wants to keep going.

"Yes?" Snake prompts.

"You were right," he blurts, figuring that Snake probably already knows. "It's spy stuff."

"I thought so," Snake says. He sounds unsurprised and maybe a little sad.

"Well. So. Good night, I guess."

"Good night," Snake says. "And Alex?"

"Hm?"

"I'm...I'm sorry," Snake says sincerely. "Whatever happened to you - you're too young for it."

"I know," Alex says. "Trust me, I know."

Snake's breathing evens and slows. Alex closes his eyes, but ghosts of flames dance behind his eyelids.

He doesn't manage to get back to sleep.


End file.
